


jessica byers au

by queerio_gaymer



Series: jessica byers au [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: BACK AT IT AGAIN, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Jessica has...a LOT to deal with, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Rule 63, Slow Burn, adding in OCs, genderbend of jonathan, jonathan byers/nancy wheeler - Freeform, mucking up canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-01-27 11:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12581324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerio_gaymer/pseuds/queerio_gaymer
Summary: Jessica Byers thought her life was...complicated. But then her little brother goes missing, and her mom starts talking to the lights in their house, and suddenly - "complicated" is the understatement of the year.//CH10 preview:She hesitates. Her mind begins to spin, to all the things that could go wrong, to Nancy waiting in the car parked two blocks away, to Barb’s deer-in-the-headlights expression when they’d caught each other’s eyes here (the last place either of them want someone from home to find them), to - to - to -Jessica takes a steadying breath and knocks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bug me on tumblr- haha-nerrrd. 2019 goal is to write more :)

Her brother disappears into the night with a kind of easy unremarkableness that will terrify Jessica Byers, haunt her longer than she’ll ever admit.

 

The morning afterwards starts out as usual.

 

Jessica is scraping egg off the frying pan and onto two plates, trying to force her eyes to stay open as she listens to the sound of her mom bustling around the livingroom. 

 

“Mom!” she calls, dropping some frozen sausages into the now-empty pan and wrinkling her nose at the smell. She’s not much of a breakfast person.

 

The bustling continues, as well as some muted muttering.

 

“Mom!” she tries again, leaning her hip against the stove and pulling her hair back into a ponytail. It’s sandy brown, lighter than her brother’s, than her mother’s.  _ It’s just like your grandma’s was, when your father and I were young,  _ her mom used to say, before. Now, her father’s gone, and Jessica has a list of top three colors she’d dye it, if she had the money to throw away.

 

“Where the hell are they?” her mom says, and Jessica hears the distinct sound of the glasses on the coffee table being moved.

 

“Have you tried the kitchen?” 

 

A few seconds later, her mother appears, brows furrowed with the perpetual harried expression that never quite seems to leave her face.

 

Jessica reaches over and snatches up her mom’s car keys off the counter, dangling them up. “They were in between the couch cushions.” Which Jessica found when she got back late from picking up a classmate’s work shift, collapsing on the couch only to wake up this morning with a crick in her neck and a slight bruise on her hip where the key’d pressed into her side.

 

Her mom’s face brightens as she takes the keys. She steps close and presses a quick kiss to the top of Jessica’s head. “What would I do without you?”

 

Jessica’s lips twist into a small, slightly rueful smile. She spears the sausages with a fork and puts one on each plate, ready to hand one to her to her mom, but the older woman’s already moved on.

 

“Alright, sweetie, I’ll see you later tonight.” She frowns as her gaze sweeps the kitchen. “Where’s Will?”

 

Jessica bites her lip, putting the frying pan in the sink. “I haven’t gotten him up yet.” She hasn’t had the time, between waking up late, scrambling to get ready, and preparing breakfast.

 

Her mom’s frown intensifies, and Jessica’s stomach drops at the familiar look of disappointment. “Jessica, you need to make sure he gets up,” she says, leaving the room to do what Jessica knows she should’ve done. “I’ve told you this a thousand times.”

 

Jessica closes her eyes, letting out a tired sigh. “I know, Mom.” 

 

She scrubs the pan clean and hopes that Will’s gotten up on his own. As she’s drying the pan, her mom comes to stand in the doorway, looking alarmed, eyes wide.

 

“He came home last night, right?”

 

Jessica’s heart skips a beat. “He’s not in his room?”

 

Her mom crosses her arms. “Did he come home or not?”

 

Jessica feels like she’s Will’s age again under the weight of her mother’s accusatory stare. She wipes her hands on her jeans. “I...don’t know,” she admits quietly, and when her mom’s brows knit together, she explains hastily, “I picked up a shift last night, I got home late -”

 

“You were working?” Her mom lets her arms fall to her sides, shoulders slumped.

 

Jessica looks down at the plates of breakfast, no doubt growing cooler by the second. “Yeah. I thought -” She thought that they could use extra money, that she could work so maybe her mom wouldn’t have to, not as hard as she was at least. But she couldn’t say that, not to her mother. “I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

 

Her mom gives an exasperated shrug of her arms, staring up at the ceiling for a moment disbelievingly. “Not a big deal?” She echoes, shaking her head. “Jessica, we’ve talked about this, you can’t take shifts when I’m working!”

 

Jessica feels the faint embers of anger stir in her gut. She does her best to put them out before she replies. “He was at the Wheelers’ house,” she ignores the tiny flutter in her chest at the mention of the Wheelers’ - or rather, at the thought of a specific one that she definitely cares nothing about and doesn’t sneak inconspicuous glances at during their shared class, thank you very much. “Maybe he stayed the night?”

 

Her mom’s mouth falls open, and she works to get her words out. “I can’t believe you.” She turns and takes short, clipped strides over to the phone. “I can’t believe you sometimes.”

 

_ What would you do without me? _ Jessica thinks, equal parts resentment and hurt churning in her gut.

 

Her mom calls the Wheelers’ as Jessica gets out the bread to make her mom’s sandwich for lunch. She listens to the strands of the stilted conversation, wishing Will had called last night, though she knows he probably did and no one was around to answer.

 

“Will didn’t spend the night?”

 

Jessica bites her lip, cold dread creeping into her chest.

 

“Ah, y-you know what, I think he just...left, uh, early for school. Thank you - um, so much. Bye!” Her mom sounds shaken, and when she comes back into the kitchen, she’s pale.

 

Jessica’s mouth hangs open, and she’s honest-to-God  _ scared. _

 

Where the hell was her brother?

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of episode 1.

* * *

 

They can’t find Will.

 

Jessica skips school and drives her mom (whose hands haven’t stopped shaking all day) to all of his usual haunts. They call the school. Nothing. They call all his friends’ houses. Nothing. They go to Castle Byers, the fort in the woods that Will and Jessica made after their father left. Nothing.

 

It’s like he’s just _vanished,_ and Jessica’s mind can’t stop spinning.

 

She should’ve been home, last night, to drive Will to and from the Wheelers’ house. She shouldn’t have taken that stupid shift. She could’ve talked one of her friends out of a different one, a shift when her mother _wasn’t_ working.

 

But wallowing in guilt won’t bring Will back, so she pushes it down and starts making ‘lost’ posters as her mom calls her asshole father. Or, tries.

 

“Dammit!” Jessica flinches at the sound of the phone slamming repeatedly into the receiver.

 

“Mom…” she says, then trails off. What exactly is she supposed to say? Don’t worry? Stay calm? Her brother is _missing._

 

So she says nothing, and her mom huffs and calls her dad’s work number, only to get the answering machine.

 

Jessica is writing _HAVE YOU SEEN ME?_ for the tenth time - her hand keeps trembling, messing up the letters - when movement catches her eye. She looks up, and out the living room window she sees the police chief’s truck pull into the driveway, followed by a squad car. She’s on her feet, taking stumbling steps towards the window before she can register what she’s doing.

 

“Mom.” Her voice quivers. She hears her mom grumble, but it sounds faint, as if it’s coming from across the house instead of across the room. “The...the cops are here.”

 

Jessica thinks she’s going to be sick.

 

Chief Hopper scratches his mustache as he tells them he found Will’s bike in the woods. He wanders through their house, eyes searching, but for what, Jessica doesn’t know.

 

She feels numb, out of body almost, like she’s here but not quite. Hopper says he thinks Will came home, and her mother is halfway through protesting before his words unscramble in Jessica’s mind.

 

“He’s not here,” she says, hollowly, unhelpfully. If he was, if he had been - Will would be safe. Because home was _safe._

 

“Not anymore,” Hopper agrees, his back to her. He runs his thumb over a small dent in the wall, by the front door. “But he might have been. Has this always been here?” The question is directed at her mother, who shrugs helplessly.

 

Hopper turns, brow creased in thought, and catches sight of Jessica. “Hey, why don’t you sit down, alright?” His eyes slide past her, and he nods to one of the cops across the room. Jessica feels a hand on her shoulder, and she allows herself to be guided to the couch, unable to comprehend whatever the cop is saying.

 

Will had been home, and now he was gone. Home was supposed to be safe, she was supposed to keep Will safe.

 

The Chief comes in, tells her mom that he wants to put together a search party, and for the first time, Jessica puts her head in her hands and sobs.

 

Later that night, after the day blinks by and yet somehow seems endlessly long at the same time, Jessica sits on the living room couch and digs through a box labeled “MISC,” searching for family photos.

 

To go on the posters. Because Will still, still hasn’t shown up, hasn’t burst through the door with apologies streaming out of his mouth, wrapping them up in a bear hug.

 

“Jessica…” Her mom stops pacing and perches herself on the edge of the other side of the couch. Jessica doesn’t look up. “I know that…I...”

 

There’s a gulf between them, and Jessica isn’t sure what she wants more: her mother to cross it, or not to. It’s unfair, but Jessica is so, so tired of being the only one who’s fair.

 

“Here they are,” Jessica says quickly, fingers closing around a stack of photos at the bottom of the box. She splays them on the table, and feels her mother’s eyes on her, before they fall to the pictures.

 

Her mom reaches, past her, and takes a handful. She sighs as she shuffles through them. “These are old.”

 

Jessica stares down at a picture of Will as a toddler, her younger self giving him bunny ears. “We haven’t been taking as many now.” _Now that Dad’s gone._ She doesn’t say it, but it rings just as loud in the silence. Her mother’s eyes are back on her, and Jessica can’t take it, suddenly. She stands. “I can go get his school pictures.”

 

“Jessica…” Her mother sounds exhausted, lost.

 

Jessica pauses near the hallway, feeling the prick of tears behind her eyes. She doesn’t turn around. “It’s fine, Mom.” She tries to make her words heavy, meaningful, but she’s not sure she manages. “Honestly. I don’t mind.”

 

She goes to fetch the pictures, and she doesn’t see the way her mother’s face crumples, the way she cradles her head in her hands and lets out a long, shaky breath.

 

The phone rings, shrilly echoing throughout the house.

 

Her mother answers as Jessica returns.

 

“Lonnie?” her mom asks, expression scrunched in confusion. “Hopper?”

 

There’s a long, quiet moment. Jessica stares at her mother, waiting.

 

“...Will?”

 

“It’s Will?” Jessica is reaching for the phone, but her mom twists away, hunching over and clutching the phone like it’s a lifeline. And - if it is Will on the phone - maybe it is.

 

“Will? Will!” Her mom is practically shrieking. “Who is this?” She’s frantic now, yelling, the telephone cord twisted around her shoulders. “What have you done to my boy!”

 

Jessica’s hand closes around the phone, and she yanks it out of her mother’s grip. She puts it to her ear, hearing only garbled static. “Who-”

 

There’s a shock of electricity, and Jessica drops the phone with a yelp, bringing a hand up to cradle her stinging ear.

 

“Oh, honey, Jessica…” She feels her mom’s arms around her, and she leans into the embrace. Her mom rests her cheek against Jessica’s forehead, and it’s damp with tears.

 

“Mom...who was it? Who was it, on the other end?” She stares at the phone hanging lifeless. She knows the answer she'll get, but she’s not sure she believes it.

 

Her mom is crying, sobs rocking them both back and forth. “It was him. I heard him, I recognized him, his breathing.”

 

Jessica feels frail, feels like she’s on a tightrope about to fall off. “Will?” she asks, breathless.

 

Her mother nods into her hair.

 

For the second time that day, Jessica lets herself cry.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to give Jessica her own character, in a way that won't deviate from the main plot too much. Sooo...have a slightly more complicated relationship with Joyce, and a MC that's a hair away from reaching her breaking point! *flings chapter and sneaks away quickly*
> 
> Oh, and Nancy shows up next chapter!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beginning of ep 2. Nancy's here!

* * *

 

Chief Hopper doesn’t believe it was Will on the phone, either. He stops by the next morning, deep lines etched into his face, which is graver than it had been yesterday. He says it was probably a prank call, and Jessica’s jaw clenches and unclenches.

 

Her mom is steadfast, insistent that it was Will. She _recognized him,_ even if it was only his breathing.

 

Hopper seems rattled (he hides it well, but Jessica - she’s used to hiding, and she’s learning to seek). He mentions Lonnie, her father, and Jessica’s hands curl into fists. She follows him on her way out.

 

“My father is a waste of time,” she says, standing on the porch. Hopper grunts, making his way to his truck. “Will wouldn’t go there.” Her father has nothing to offer, and hasn’t for some time.

 

Hopper wrenches open the driver-side door, glancing up at her from under his hat brim. “You sure about that?” he asks, and it sounds like a challenge. “How well do you know your brother?”

 

Jessica juts her chin stubbornly, but she hesitates a second. It’s enough of a confirmation for Hopper, who nods. “Look after your mother, kid. She needs you.”

 

He hefts himself into the driver’s seat, the door slamming behind him. He won’t find Will, she knows. If - if her brother did go to her dad’s, if he’d run away, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let a cop bring him back.

 

And her mom… Joyce Byers won’t rest until she had the truth, until she brought Will home. At this point, with how fast she’s unraveling, there’s a dark, nagging voice in the back of Jessica’s mind that says her mom might break, might push herself over the edge before that happens.

 

A well of frustration bubbles up in her chest, and she slams her fist against the railing before she goes back inside, grabbing up the poster and telling her mom she’ll go get copies Xeroxed.

 

* * *

 

Jessica makes two hundred copies and brings half the stack with her to school. She puts them up in the middle school first, mostly because the thought of walking into Hawkins High and getting the pity (or worse) stare makes her knees weak. But she tells herself it’s for Will, so how she feels matters shit-all, so she stands up straight and walks into her school like her world isn’t rapidly falling apart.

 

She’s tacking up her fourth poster when someone comes to stand next to her.

 

“Hey.” It’s a quiet, familiar voice. Jessica looks over, and there’s Nancy Wheeler, hugging a textbook to her chest, brunette hair framing her face perfectly, her blue eyes soft with concern.

 

Jessica swallows, and her voice comes out rough. “Hey, Wheeler.”

 

Nancy looks at her, really looks, and Jessica fidgets under her gaze. She knows she’s, to put it mildly, _unkempt._ She wishes she’d put in more of an effort, even if it’s stupid, to look presentable, to look _stable._

 

“I just- wanted to say, I’m sorry, um, about everything. It sucks, what...happened,” Nancy fumbles, wincing slightly at the words.

 

Jessica lets out a sharp huff that almost passes for a laugh. “‘Sucks’ doesn’t quite cover it, but yeah.” Her eyes slip over Nancy’s shoulder to see her posse of friends gawking. Steve Harrington, the King of Hawkins, his douchebag friends, and...Barb. Jessica looks back quickly. “It’s pretty fucking miserable.”

 

Nancy’s eyes widen a fraction, and Jessica’s stomach does panicky somersaults. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have...said that. Sh-shoot.” She’s spiralling, and she can’t pull herself out.

 

Nancy smiles. It’s just the tiniest crook of her lips, but it’s there all the same. “Don’t worry about it. What with- everything, I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to say ‘fuck.’” Jessica nearly drops the tack she’s holding, hearing the curse fall so casually from _straight-edge Nancy Wheeler’s_ mouth.

 

“Listen,” Nancy starts after there’s an awkward pause between them. “We’re having this get together tonight at Steve’s, I don’t know if you’d even want to come, but it might get your mind off - um, it might be...fun.”

 

It’s a pity invite, obviously, for the poor kid with the lost brother and half-crazy mother. It’s polite, considerate in a way Jessica’s not used to, of Nancy to ask her. Still, Jessica would quite literally be anywhere else. Sure, Steve’s never been mean or rude to her - he’s never been anything to her. They’ve chatted a handful of times (because Steve Harrington has chatted with almost every girl in the school at least once), but they’re not friends. He wouldn’t want her there, any more than she would want to be there. Any more than Nancy actually wants her to be there.

 

The bell rings before Jessica can reply, and she thinks she sees a flash of - relief? - in Nancy’s eyes as the other girl takes a step back. “I have to go,” she says, then briskly explains, “I have a Chem test, y’know? I’ll- I’ll see you, later.”

 

She’s so -- It’s too much, the way Nancy’s looking at her, versus the way Jessica wants the other girl to look at her, so she turns back to the poster abruptly. “Bye, Wheeler,” she says breezily, evasively. “Good luck on your test.”

 

Nancy hesitates, and then Jessica hears the sound of her footsteps as she walks away. She hears Steve and his friends chattering, and then they too fade away.

 

Jessica sticks the last tack into the poster, more forcefully than is really necessary.

 

_Fuck._

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> next part of ep 2 - confronting Lonnie (*shudders*)

* * *

 

 

Jessica’s knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. Music hums out from the car radio. The mix - her and Will’s mix, the one they’d listened to whenever Mom and Dad were fighting, way back when - had the only tape in the car.

 

Leslie Gore belts out “You Don’t Own Me” and Jessica, who turned to music for comfort, who had idled away more hours on her secondhand guitar than she could possibly count, switches it off.

 

She figures she should enjoy the silence while she could. Where she was going, she wouldn’t be getting much of it.

 

* * *

 

It’s raining when Jessica stops the car. She stares at the house across the street. It looks like all the other houses on the city street: small, old, not particularly inviting. Not a home, not for her, not for Will.

 

But maybe a hiding spot, if her brother was desperate enough. And - Will’s been gone almost 48 hours. She’s desperate enough to leave no stone unturned, not even this one.

 

So Jessica steels herself and kills the ignition, climbing out of the car. The chill seeps beneath her denim jacket, and by the time she reaches the porch her hair’s damp. The lights are on inside, the sound of the television muffled in the background.

 

Jessica knocks, knuckles rapping heavily against the door. After a few seconds and no answer, no movement in the house, she knocks again, louder, insistent.

 

It’s not her father who answers. It’s a woman, young and pretty, just her father’s type. She stands in the doorway clad in a tank top and sweatpants that hug her hips, one hand on her hip and one on the door, giving Jessica an unimpressed once over.

 

“Yeah? Can I help you?”

 

Jessica forces her mouth into a practiced, performative smile. “Yes, ma’am,” she says demurely. “I’m looking for Lonnie.” Her father’s name is sour in her mouth, but she’s careful not to let it show.

 

The woman is immediately wary, a guarded frown curling her lips, crossing her arms. She glances Jessica over again, as if assessing if she’s a threat, if she’s competition. Disgust curls in Jessica’s gut. “Oh yeah? Who’s asking?”

 

Jessica isn’t patient enough to keep up the charade. “His daughter,” she responds curtly, not even taking the time to appreciate the way the woman’s eyes widen in surprise before she pushes her way inside.

 

The living room is cluttered, an empty pizza box lying open on the threadbare couch, beer cans decorating the end table. The news drones on the television. No signs of her brother, so Jessica makes her way down the hallway, checking rooms as she goes.

 

“Your dad’s out back, sweetheart!” The woman calls as she closes the front door, cloyingly friendly now that she knows who Jessica is, or more importantly who she isn’t.

 

Will isn’t in any of the rooms. Jessica turns around, starts to walk back, when a vice-like grip closes around her shoulder, roughly spinning her around.

 

“Well, well, well,” her father says, staring down at her with indifferent eyes and an arrogant smirk Jessica itches to knock off his face. “The prodigal daughter returns, or some shit.”

 

Jessica shrugs out of his grip, taking a step backwards to put much-needed distance between them. “I’m not the one who left, Dad.” Her tone is icy, and she’s proud that her words don’t shake, that her knees don’t either. She stands tall and glares right back at him. Inside her chest, her heart pounds a staccato beat.

 

Her father’s smirk stretches. He crosses his arms loosely, leaning back. He looks the same as he always has, right down to the asshole/deadbeat get-up: washed out jeans, a faded white shirt, and a button-down that he doesn’t bother buttoning (she hates it even more because it’s essentially what she’s wearing, too, damn it). “You’ve grown,” he observes, giving her a once over that makes Jessica want to shudder. “You’re almost a spitting image of your mother, back when we first met.”

 

Jessica clenches her jaw, stomach churning. “I’m looking for Will,” she forces out between her teeth. She takes another step back, into the living room.

 

Her father scoffs, bringing a hand up to rub the scruff on his chin. “That little shit hasn’t made it back home, huh?”

 

Jessica trembles, anger sparking like lightning in her veins. She balls her hands into fists, nails biting into her palms. Will is her little brother, how dare her father --

 

Jessica smashes her fist into the wall, pain lancing up her arm at the impact.

 

Her father’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer. “Hey, you’re in my house, you- ”

 

“Lonnie!” Jessica jumps at the sound of the woman’s voice, having forgotten all about her. She’s next to them in an instant, expression a mask of exasperation. “You gonna introduce us, or what?”

 

Her father blinks, and the sharp lines on his face smooth back out. He gestures between them. “Cynthia, this is Jessica, my oldest. Jessica, this is Cynthia, my girlfriend. Now everyone’s acquainted.” He slaps his hands against his thighs. “Your brother’s not here, Jess. You can knock yourself out searching, though.” He grumbles something beneath his breath.

 

Jessica glances over at Cynthia, giving her a nod that she hopes conveys her genuine thanks at the older woman’s interruption. Then she pushes past her dad and makes a beeline for the back door.

 

* * *

 

Will’s not there. Jessica checks everywhere. She’s disappointed she didn’t find him, obviously, but she’s glad she didn’t find him here.

 

Her father’s a grade-A asshole the entire time, shadowing her wherever she goes.

 

They’re in the backyard, Jessica peering into the windows of his latest bum car. “You should’ve called Mom back,” she accuses, resting her hip against the car and folding her arms over her chest. “It would’ve saved me the trip.”

 

Her father watches her, his gaze undecipherable. He rolls his shoulders, letting her barb wash over him. “I assumed she just forgot where he was. He was just lost, or something.” He sniffs. “Boy never was good at taking care of himself.”

 

Jessica hates him, she really does. “He’s just a kid, Dad, goddamn. He’s not supposed to be looking after himself.”

 

“You’re not supposed to be, either.” He looks away, scratches his nose. “You should tell your mother, when she finds time to actually parent, to move you all out here, to the city. Get you out of that damn hellhole.” He meets her eyes, serious all of a sudden. “You could have a real life here.”

 

Jessica breaks the stare, looking down the alleyway at nothing. There’s a part of her that secretly craves the city life, the countless people, the anonymous places. She’s snuck out, on the rare late night, visited certain places, places Hawkins won’t have for another few decades.

 

“Then I could see you more,” her dad adds.

 

Jessica rolls her eyes at that bullshit. “You could see me more if you actually gave a damn, which you don’t.”

 

Her father pulls himself up taller. “I do. Despite what your mother tells you.” Jessica shakes her head disbelievingly, and he frowns. “Does your mom even know you’re here, Jess?”

 

Jessica hesitates, and her father puts his hands in his pockets, nodding slowly. “So lemme get this straight. The son’s missing, and the daughter’s running wild? Shit, Joyce.” He looks drained, his gaze hollow. “That’s just fucking fantastic.”

 

Jessica kicks half-heartedly at the car’s front tire, the spectre of doubt creeping into the back of her mind. “I’m not ‘running wild,’ I’m trying to help.” For all the good it’s done so far, she thinks bitterly. She feels like she’s taken a giant step backward, like she’s screwed up. There’s a telltale prick behind her eyes, and she takes off, stalking towards her car.

 

Like hell she’s going to let her father see her cry.

 

“Think about what I said, alright?” he yells after her.

 

Jessica wants to scream, but she keeps her mouth shut, teeth grinding together.

 

Driving home, she switches her and Will’s music back on, twists the volume dial until the vibrations thrum in her bones, jamming the signal of her own thoughts and mercifully replacing it with a rocking melody.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up is the partyy...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the party scene

* * *

  
Jessica rolls over on her bed, burrowing further under the covers, on the drowsier side of halfway asleep.

She’d come straight home after talking to her father, but...she hadn’t been able to force herself out of the car. She’d just sat, staring at the front door, the air gradually cooling around her (not that the car’s heaters worked that well to begin with - another thing to add to the ‘fix-it wishlist’).

It was like she was looking at the house from an outsider’s eyes, everything familiar now strange. The empty chairs sitting sentinel on the porch, the sheets hanging on the clothesline forgotten and soaked through. It all felt...out of place.

Or maybe she was. Maybe her father was right. Jessica was running wild, and wild things didn’t have homes.

“Idiot,” Jessica muttered to herself, rubbing her hands together to ward off the chill. She’d let her dad get under her skin, even though she knew better. And now she was wallowing in self-pitying melodrama, while Will was missing.

Her hand was on the car door handle when she saw a silhouette cross the living room window. Jessica’s mother, pacing inside, back and forth.

Jessica dropped her hand, instead turning the key in the ignition and retreating.

She’d joined the ongoing search party, walking for hours through the woods, calling Will’s name until her throat was raw. Night fell, and the next wave of volunteers trudged in. One of them, Will’s science teacher Mr. Clark, had patted her on the shoulder, exchanging kind words and telling her to get some rest. Jessica, too numb to argue, had finally gone home and all but collapsed into bed.

It’s hushed inside, an unsettling near noiselessness that makes Jessica uneasy, keeps her awake. In the living room, her mom has bought a new phone, one of the tabletop types. She’s plugged it into the wall, dragging over an armchair and cradling the device in her lap.

Jessica hadn’t been able to bear the sight of it, of her mother so clearly teetering on the cliff’s edge. So she’d taken a step back, hurried to her room and closing the door behind her.

And now, the phone rings. The shrill warble echoes around the house thunderously.

Jessica sits up as her mom answers, voice quivering. Jessica is tugging a hand through her rumpled hair, considering getting up and eating a late supper, when there’s a knock on her door.

“Jessica, it’s...it’s for you.”

 

* * *

 

“Hello?”

There’s a soft noise, like a sigh, on the other end, then, “Hey, um. It’s Barb.”

Jessica isn’t sure who’d she thought it would be, calling her late on a Tuesday night, but Barbara Holland is pretty far down on the list of possibilities. Jessica feels a spike of anxiety in her stomach. “Uh…” They don’t talk - haven’t talked, since -- “What’s...up?”

Someone shrieks in the background, and Barb takes a shuddering breath. “Are you coming?” When all she gets in return is confused silence, Jessica can almost hear the redhead roll her eyes. “To Steve’s.”

“The party.” It clicks into place. Jessica had forgotten, though in all fairness, she’d be in exactly the same place had she remembered: still not going. She answers honestly, because Barb’s always been good with the truth. “No. They’re not, uh, my crowd. I mean, not, y’know - you and Nancy are -” Jessica’s babbling, a la her nerves. She swallows shallowly, and flounders on. “Harrington’s house isn’t my idea of a good time.”

Barb snorts. “Well, you’re not wrong,” she says sardonically, a bitter edge to her voice. She sounds miserable, and sympathy twinges in Jessica’s chest. She doesn’t have the details, but she understands why Barb’s calling, why she’s calling her.

Barb sniffles. “Sorry, this is so stupid -”

“Hey, wait!” Jessica bites out before the other girl can hang up. Her gaze cuts around the living room, making sure her mom isn’t in the room. “I owe you one, remember? So, whatever it is...just say the word.”

She’s greeted with silence, and for a moment Jessica thinks she’s the only one on the line. Finally, “Could you drive me home? And…” Barb sniffles again. “Could you bring some gauze, if you have any?”

Jessica’s brows jump up, but all she says is, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

 

* * *

  

Twenty-five minutes later Jessica is pulling up alongside Steve’s house. It’s huge, at least three times as big as the Byers’ home, and looks as if it’s come straight out of a catalogue. A stone driveway, delicate decorative trees, a pool in back, which is where Barb had told her she’d be waiting.

All the lights are on in the house, but no one peeks out of the window as Jessica shuts the car door behind her, cutting across the grass. It’s all the same to her - the thought of having to deal with Tommy or Carol or whoever else Steve’s invited makes her palms sweat. She worries over what people say behind closed doors, and she’s not eager to find out.

Jessica hugs her arms to her chest. The night is just brisk enough for her breath to hang in the air, and she’s glad now for the oversized sweater she’d shrugged into before she’d left.

As she rounds the corner, Jessica catches a glimpse of red hair by the pool. Barb’s sitting on the diving board, feet tracing circles in the water. She’s clutching her hand, and it’s then that Jessica realizes she’s forgotten the band-aids in the car.

She jogs back to get them, the wind rustling the leaves of the trees along the forest’s edge behind her. The back passenger door sticks, so she yanks it open with both hands.

As she grabs the box, there’s a high-pitched wail, so short it’s over almost before it begins. Jessica startles, smacking her head on the car’s roof as she tries to stand up. She closes the door and leans heavily against it, peering around the treeline.

Nothing.

“Just some animal,” Jessica reasons with herself, willing her heart to stop racing.

She grips the box tightly and strides back towards the pool. The sooner she can get Barb bandaged up, the sooner they can leave, and the sooner she can be back in her bed, on her way to forgetting this day ever happened.

A solid plan, but regrettably, not failsafe.

“Hey, so all we had at the house was Mickey Mouse band-aids, I --” Jessica rattles the box in her hand, looks up and falters in her tracks.

Barb’s not there.

“Uh, Barb?” Jessica says, brows furrowing in confusion. She’d just seen the other girl.

The poolside is eerily silent, steam from the heated water curling in the air. Nothing stirs.

“Barb?” Jessica wanders over to the diving board. There’s a single drop of blood on its edge. In the water below, sinking slowly, is a washcloth.

Maybe she went in? Jessica eyes the sliding glass door. With a sigh, she walks up the patio steps and glances inside. She doesn’t see anyone. After a second of indecision, she tugs on the handle.

Locked.

Jessica runs a hand through her bangs, mulling her options. She doesn’t think Barb would give her the runaround, but she doesn’t know for sure - they’re not friends, after all.

Jessica knocks against the glass. No one answers.

Jessica takes a step back, tucking one hand in her jean pocket while the other held the band-aids, drumming a choppy beat against the tin. The pool is still deserted, and Jessica isn’t sure what to do. Barb had just been there. She had to have just gone inside.

“I’ll be in the car,” Jessica calls. “If you still...want a ride home. I’ll wait.”

On the walk back to the car, Jessica can’t shake the feeling she’s being watched. She turns, but there’s no one, just long shadows. The light on the side of the house flickers.

A shiver runs down her spine. She’s paranoid, with Will missing, Jessica knows that. But every time the light flickers, the shadows seem to grow longer.

Jessica jogs back to the car. As soon as she’s in the driver’s seat, she feels stupid. There’s nothing - no one - out there. The light is steady now, and the car’s headlights reveal nothing but a regular night in Hawkins.

She switches the radio on low. “Proud Mary” hums as Jessica watches the front door.

“I Love Rock & Roll” is next. And then “Heart of Glass.” And then “Separate Ways.”

Half an hour later, Jessica gives up. The other girl obviously isn’t coming. Probably Nancy had talked her into staying and watching a movie, or whatever else people did at parties. Jessica doesn’t know, and she doesn’t know if she wants to know.

So Jessica leaves.

(And Barb - Barb never does.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First half of episode 3. Next chapter will be the rest of it. Fiiiinally starting to get to more of the Nancy/Jessica scenes woot woot.

* * *

 

The next morning, Jessica wakes up to the sound of her mother talking to Will from the next room.

 

“Will, Will, I’m here, honey…”

 

Hope fumbles its way into her chest as she detangles herself from her covers. She pulls on a pair of shorts that only barely peek out from beneath her oversized t-shirt, and stumbles to her brother’s room.

 

“I’m right here, just- just talk to me…”

 

Jessica’s heart clenches when she pushes open the door. Her mom is perched on the foot of Will’s bed, rocking back and forth gently.

 

Will isn’t there, but every lamp in their house seems to be.

 

Jessica’s hands tremble at her sides. “Mom? What --” 

 

Her mother’s head shoots up, and she waves an arm at Jessica. “Jess, come here, come here.” Her eyes are wide, rimmed with red.

 

Haltingly, Jessica joins her on the bed. “Wh-what is...this?” she asks carefully, casting a glance and counting up all the lamps her mother’s dragged in. Thirteen.

 

Her mom reaches out, takes Jessica’s hand in hers. She’s so pale, her hands clammy, and Jessica’s heart skips a beat in alarm. 

 

“It’s Will,” her mom whispers, tightening her grip on Jessica’s hand. “It’s Will, he’s trying - he’s trying to talk to me.”

 

_ Fuck, _ Jessica thinks, feeling the world drop out from under her. This is it. This is the edge that all of their neighbors have been gossiping about, and Joyce Byers has finally, decisively taken a leap off.

 

“Trying to talk to you,” Jessica echoes hollowly. “Through...the lights?”

 

“Yes!” her mom exclaims eagerly, then catches sight of Jessica’s slack expression and her face falls. “I- I know, I  _ know  _ how it sounds, but- just watch.”

 

Jessica wants to protest, wants to yell or cry or  _ something, _ but it’s too much. So she sits, waits.

 

Joyce looks at the lamps, breath quivering. “Will, your sister is here. Can you show her what you showed me, baby? Please,” she pleads softly.

 

One of the lightbulbs flares briefly, and her mother gasps.

 

“See! Did you--”

 

“Mom!” Jessica snaps, pulling her hand out of her mother’s and standing up. Her pulse is racing. “It’s the electricity! It’s acting up, just like it did for the phone. That’s  _ all. _ ”

 

“That’s not all!” her mother yells, eyes shimmering with tears. “Something’s going on here!” She makes a flailing gesture at the corner. “Yesterday - the wall - something...” She sobs, hands falling limp in her lap. “Will is here, he’s here, Jessica!”

 

Jessica stares at her mother, notes the bruise-colored bags under her eyes, the way her hair hangs dull and lifeless at her shoulders, that she’s in yesterday’s clothes - a green jacket thrown over a striped tank top and blue jeans.

 

It’s like staring at a living ghost, and Jessica realizes she’s so afraid, so terrified of losing her mother like this. Not lost in the night like Will, but right before her eyes, slipping like smoke through her fingers. 

 

“Mom, listen to me,” Jessica says, willing her voice to stay steady. “You need to get some sleep, alright?” Joyce is shaking her head, mumbling in protest. “Or- or at least take a shower, okay? Put on some fresh clothes. You’ll feel better, I promise. Please.”

 

Her mother looks up at her, brows knit together. “He’s- Will is -”

 

“Lost,” Jessica finishes, firmly. “He’s lost, and we’re going to find him. Not with lamps, but by going out and helping search.  _ After  _ you take a shower. Alright?” She holds out a hand to her mother.

 

Joyce wipes her cheeks dry with her sleeve, letting out a shaky sigh and nodding. “O-okay,” she whispers, taking Jessica’s hand and standing up.

 

Jessica feels weak with relief. “I’ll make us breakfast.”

 

She hasn’t lost her mother yet.

 

* * *

 

Jessica goes to school, because it’s a thing normal teenagers do, and she could really stand to feel normal for a few hours. 

 

It’s hardly ‘normal.’ 

 

For starters, she her classmates gawk at her as if she’s an alien, then hurriedly glance away when she catches them. The teachers speak to her in soft, reassuring tones, like they fear she’ll spook. The lectures drone on and on, but they might as well be in a different language for all she understands them. It’s like Jessica has to actively remind herself that she’s there, that it matters that she’s there. 

 

And then there’s Barb - or, more accurately, there  _ isn’t  _ Barb. 

 

No one notices the redhead’s absence. Jessica doesn’t even notice, not until Nancy says something about it. 

 

After slogging her way through her morning classes, the bell rings for lunch. Jessica’s not hungry. She knows she should eat, but the thought makes her mildly nauseous, stomach turning queasily. She considers going to the library and thinks better of it. Stares and whispers are just as bad as food. What she really wants is to be alone. 

 

So she heads for the parking lot. She’ll relax in her car, put on her Pat Benatar mix and recline the seat, and it’ll be enough. 

 

The idea of driving off and searching for Will, leaving everyone at Hawkins High behind, is much more tempting. 

 

She’s walking around the outside of the building, hands tucked into her jean pockets, when she spies Nancy at the pay phone.

 

“Yeah, of course, I will. Sorry to bother you,” Nancy says, teeth worrying her bottom lip as she hangs the phone up. She stands there, staring at it blankly.

 

“Hey, Wheeler,” Jessica greets, frowning slightly when Nancy startles, turning to look at her with wide eyes. “Not hungry, huh?”

 

Nancy’s brows knit together, and it takes her a moment to catch up. “...Uh, no, not really.” Jessica casts a glance towards the parking lot, taking a half-step back, when Nancy adds, “Hey, um, by any chance, have you seen Barb?”

 

Jessica scratches the back of her neck, remembering how she was blown off the night before. “No, not since last night,” she admits, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. In the light of day, Jessica considers the possibility that it had all been some stupid prank, that they’d all had a laugh over making a fool out of her. Jessica doesn’t get the humor in it, but then, as the butt of the joke, she wouldn’t, would she? “I --”

 

Nancy, eyes growing even wider, gapes at her. “You saw her last night? When?”

 

“Yeah, a-after she called me?” Jessica shrugs, lost. So maybe it wasn’t a prank. “She- she wanted a ride home from Harrington’s, I said sure...” She trails off.

 

Nancy seems just as baffled as Jessica is. “Why would she --” Nancy stops herself, rephrases. “She called you?” Nancy’s eyes narrow. “You were at Steve’s? So you - you took her back home?”

 

Jessica fidgets, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “No. I mean, yes, I was there, but Barb wasn’t. I waited, but she never come out.”

 

Nancy chews her bottom lip, mulling the information over anxiously. A cold prickle of unease shivers down Jessica’s spine. If it wasn’t a prank, if Nancy’s this worried looking for her friend… did Barb not go back inside last night?

 

She opens her mouth to ask when --

 

“Nancy, there you are!” Steve’s shout jolts Jessica out of her thoughts.

 

Steve bounds over, Carol and Tommy lagging disinterestedly behind him. Steve wraps an arm around Nancy’s slim shoulders, pressing a kiss against her cheek and telling her he’d been looking for her. They look like a picture-perfect couple: Steve in his racer jacket and fitted gray jeans, hair mussed  _ just so; _ Nancy in her cute striped sweater and high-waisted brown pants, a thin little smile stretching across her face. Jessica averts her eyes. Her heart lurches treacherously, but she ignores it.

 

She turns away and Tommy catches her eye. “Missed ya at the party, Jess,” he says with a smarmy grin, in a tone that clearly communicates the opposite.

 

Carol sniggers behind her hand. She clears her throat, eyes glinting with something predatory. “Barb seemed disappointed you didn’t show. ‘Do you think Jessica’s coming?’” Carol mimics shrilly (despite the fact that Barb’s voice is deeper than the popular girl’s) and smirks. “She ended up being kind of a fifth wheel, between me and Tommy and Nancy and Steve. I guess she felt a little... _ queer. _ ”

 

Jessica’s entire body goes cold at the sniping comment. Carol can’t - she can’t  _ know,  _ can she? It’s just something cruel to say, and Carol’s always been good at cruel.

 

“Fuck off,” Jessica mutters, fearing that if her voice were any louder it might break. She stalks away to the sound of Tommy’s guffaws and Carol’s  _ God, she was white as a sheet. _

 

Jessica doesn’t run to her car, but she wants to. She can feel the weight of their stares, heavy on her back. It’s all she can do to keep her legs from quivering, because, fuck - she’s scared.

 

It’s fast becoming a familiar feeling. Jessica’s sick of it, sick with it, her stomach churning.

 

She slumps into the driver seat, letting out a long sigh as she brings her hands to rest on the steering wheel. And then she puts the key in the ignition, throwing the car into reverse, driving out of the parking lot, speeding onto the street until Hawkins High disappears in her rearview mirror.

 

On the radio, Bruce Springsteen sings about wanting to change his clothes, his hair, his face, and Jessica - Jessica turns up the volume.

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First part of ep 4, short chapter. Coming back around to this, cuz why not?

* * *

 

The police find Will’s body.

 

Jessica can’t stop crying, and her mother is babbling to Chief Hopper about Will talking to her through their old Christmas lights that she’s wrapped around the halls of their home, about monsters climbing out of the wall.

 

Nothing makes sense.

 

She wakes up the next morning without remembering that she ever went to sleep, and finds her mom dozing on the living room couch with an axe in her arms.

 

Her chest _aches_ and Jessica doesn’t know if it’s from sadness or anger or fear. It just _hurts._

 

“Mom. Mom,” she says, voice flat as her mother stirs. “We need to go.”

 

Her mom doesn’t understand. Jessica doesn’t either, not really.

 

“We need to go to the morgue.”

 

* * *

 

The drive is silent, save the occasional sputtering of Jessica’s car. It takes too long, but the second Jessica parks, she wishes the trip had taken longer.

 

She lets out a sigh, hands white-knuckled against the steering wheel.

 

Her mother sits unmoving in the passenger seat, stare unfocused straight ahead. Her eyes are dull, face pale and haggard.

 

“Mom,” Jessica whispers, voice cracking.

 

Her mom glances over at her. She blinks, slowly. Jessica’s breath catches, waiting. But her mother- she looks _through_ her, places a hand on Jessica’s shoulder that feels too heavy.

 

Joyce might be with Jessica, but she’s not _here._ And the only hope, twisted as it is, Jessica has of bringing her back, is seeing the thing she dreads most.

 

Her brother’s body.

 

* * *

 

Will is pale. And so, so small, lying on that table under the sterile fluorescent lights -

 

Jessica scrambles, runs from the room. She hasn’t eaten anything for god knows how many hours, so she has nothing to hurl except sobs.

 

She flees back to the waiting room. Sinks into a chair, cradling her head in her hands.

 

She doesn’t even realize she’s still crying until a tissue is handed to her. Jessica looks up, and Hopper is watching her, sympathetic in a way that nearly makes Jessica sick.

 

“Hey, kid,” he says. That’s it, for a moment. Then, softer, “Sorry.”

 

Jessica sniffles, gaze falling back to the floor.

 

They wait like that for several bone-achingly long minutes.

 

“Your mom still in there?” Hopper asks, frowning at the morgue door.

 

Jessica nods.

 

Hopper’s frown deepens, brow creasing. “How is she doing?”

 

Jessica considers lying, but the Chief has heard the monster story, seen the strung up lights. What’s the point? “It’s hard,” she admits instead.

 

Hopper’s face softens. He sighs, and there’s a familiar sadness roughing his voice when he says, “Yeah, I know it is.”

 

“It’s never-” There’s a lump in Jessica’s throat, and she has to push her words past it. “It’s never been this bad before.” Her mom has always wrestled with anxiety. Her darkest moment had been when her dad had left, but even then...there hadn’t been monsters. Hadn’t been voices in the lights.

 

“Hey, Jess, listen to me.” Hopper leans down, brings their eyes level. He’s serious and kind and smells like the woods and cigarettes and acrid coffee. She wouldn’t find anything in him comforting ordinarily, but things have been so strange for long enough that- she does. “Your mom is strong. You hear me? She’s gonna be okay. She’ll make it through. You both will.”

 

Jessica shoots him a small smile, relief clawing its way into her chest for the first time in days. She’s about to say thank you, when the morgue doors burst open.

 

“Ma’am I really need you to sign-” The coroner is chasing after her mother, clipboard in hand, scowling.

 

Joyce wheels around, wide-eyed, pushing the clipboard away. “No! I don’t know what you think that- that _thing_ is in there, but that is not my son!”

 

Hopper is on his feet, clenching his hat in his hands. “Joyce, wait a second-”

 

Jessica watches numbly as her mom turns on him, disbelieving. “No!”

 

And then she...just storms out.

 

“Ma’am!”

 

“Joyce!”

 

Any hope that Jessica had been nurturing of bringing her mother back dies there, in the morgue waiting room. Jessica doesn’t bother to mourn it, either, following her mom out on shaky legs.

 

* * *

 

Her mother refuses to get in the car, instead stalking down the street while Jessica trails her.

 

“I just - I just n-need some time to think,” Joyce stammers, staring at the sidewalk beneath her feet as she keeps on walking.

 

Jessica swerves, throwing her car into a hasty park on the side of the road, and runs after her mother. People stare, and Jessica loathes each and every one.

 

“Mom, stop!” She puts her hand on her mother’s elbow, trying to anchor her, but is shrugged off. “Mom!”

 

Her mother makes a choked sound. “Jessica, just...Just go home, alright!” she snaps, all but glaring at her daughter.

 

Jessica reels back, folding her arms around her chest defensively. She’s starting not to recognize the woman in front of her, and it’s both terrifying and infuriating.

 

“You need to come home too, Mom,” she replies as evenly as she can. “We need to plan the funeral.” Her voice breaks on the last word, the hardest sentence she’s ever had to say.

 

Her mother scoffs, upper lip curling. “For what?” she asks, question dripping in scorn. “For that- that thing back there?”

 

Jessica’s heart very nearly cleaves in two at that. Her hands clench into fists, fingernails biting into her palms as she tries to hold her frustration at bay. “For Will, Mom! For Will! He’s not in the lights, he’s not hiding from any monsters!” Her voice trembles, and her eyes prick with tears. “He’s alone, in the morgue, and he deserves better! He deserves a funeral, with the town and his friends, his family - his mother!”

 

Joyce closes her eyes tightly, sucking in a sharp breath. “Will’s out there, Jessica! He’s scared, but he’s alive. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t know how to get to him, but he’s there and I am not leaving him.” At Jessica’s frown, Joyce raises her hands in the air. “I know - I _know_ it sounds crazy!” She’s shouting now. “But I don’t care that no one believes me, I don’t need them to. I just need you, and everyone else, to stay out of my way, because nothing will stop me from bringing him back home!”

 

At that, her mother turns and walks away once more, and this time Jessica lets her go.

 

There’s a crowd of passersby that’s stopped to gawk. Jessica grinds her teeth, sweeping a contemptuous glance over them all. She wants to yell, to lash out, but she says nothing. Just retreats.

 

She has a feeling nothing they can say can hurt her any worse, anyhow.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> snippet (short short short chapter) of ep 4, about to step more decisively outside canon for a bit. things are picking up at last! ps: if you are so inclined, you can follow me on tumblr (http://haha-nerrrd.tumblr.com/) - I sometimes post snippets of writing there, as I slog through writing chapters out. I tag all my writing as "my writing," and then tag with the titles as well, if you'd like to search. I'm also a bored af friendly bitch!! so if you'd like to bug me, I'd be thrilled.

* * *

 

Jessica skips school the next day and goes to look at caskets. It’s hushed in the funeral parlor, like all the air has been sucked out of the building. The owner takes her on a morbid tour of “her options,” and Jessica stomach lurches queasily.

 

It’s beautifully decorated, soft light and bouquets everywhere. The caskets shine, spotless enough she can see her own distorted face in them. It’s eerie.

 

“This one is made of soft wood, with a crepe interior,” he says, rubbing his clammy hands on his suit jacket. “Now, um. I don’t know what your budget is... but we do also have copper and bronze available.” 

 

Jessica sighs. The Byers’ budget definitely won’t cover a metal casket, let alone a fancy wood. But she allows herself to be led, if only to stall the inevitable for a little longer.

 

She catches movement in a doorway out of the corner of her eye. It’s -- Nancy Wheeler.

 

Jessica falters, brows knitting together in confusion. What was the other girl doing here?

 

Nancy hesitates, fidgeting with the strap of her bag, as Jessica comes over.

 

“Hey, Wheeler,” Jessica greets, and leaves it at that.

 

Nancy offers an attempt of a smile. She looks perfect, at first; dressed in a simple pink button down tucked neatly into black pants, hair curling to frame her face. But there’s worried creases in her expression, and her eyes are red-rimmed from recent tears. Concern flares in Jessica’s chest.

 

“I, um… Your mom said you’d be here,” Nancy explains quickly, glancing up to meet Jessica’s questioning gaze. “I just…” She stares for a moment, seeming to lose her words. “Can we talk?”

 

Jessica nods, heartbeat picking up its tempo. 

 

They find a bench in the hall near the entrance of the funeral home and sit, close enough together that they can speak quietly without chance of being overheard if someone happened to walk by.

 

“You were the last person to see Barb,” Nancy begins unceremoniously. Jessica flinches at what she interprets as an accusation, and Nancy backtracks, eyes wide. “Sorry, that’s not - it’s - The police questioned me at school today. About Barb.”

 

Jessica lets out her breath. “Oh.” So Barb was still gone. It seems strange to Jessica, for the redhead to suddenly disappear, but she doesn’t know her very well.

 

“When you went to pick her up, did you see anything? Anyone else out there?” Nancy’s hands, resting on her knees, become fists.

 

“No.” Jessica thinks back to that night. There was no one. She remembers the animal wail, but that had been the only sign of another living creature out there. “No one was out there, not even Barb by the time I came back from my car. She was just,” Jessica shrugs, “gone.” She wishes she could be of more help.

 

Nancy frowns. “The cops think she ran away.” Jessica stills at that, and Nancy shakes her head. “But they don’t know Barb.”

 

Jessica hums noncommittally, and Nancy turns on her, eyes narrowing. “She wouldn’t! She wouldn’t just leave like that. And besides, where would she go?”

 

Jessica closes her eyes briefly. Against her better judgement, she says, “I might know...a place.”

 

Nancy’s staring at her critically, unbelieving. “You - you ‘know a place?’” Her frown deepens. “How do you know Barb, anyway? You’ve never been friends, or anything.”

 

Jessica ignores both questions, eyes trained on the floor. “It’s a longshot that she’s there, but I can go look, tonight. Just to be sure.” She might not be Barb’s friend, but she deserves to be found. At least so she knows people miss her even if she doesn’t want to return to Hawkins. Jessica can understand the sentiment.

 

A hand grips her arm, and Jessica glances up. Nancy’s eyes are bright and blazing with determination. “I’m coming with you.”

 

Jessica immediately shakes her head, but Nancy’s grip tightens, so she sighs. This might be Jessica’s worst idea yet. “Fine, but you have to stay in the car. Alright?”

 

Nancy glares at her, scoffing.

 

Yes, definitely Jessica’s worst idea.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An entirely original scene! I didn’t get as far as I wanted to, but I think this makes sense as a whole chapter so. Here it is, after much delay.

* * *

 

Jessica is nervous the entire drive, anxiety worming holes through her gut. After an initial attempt at stilted small talk, Nancy is mostly quiet, staring out the passenger window at the night. 

 

Jessica finally puts on Journey’s  _ Escape, _ fingers tapping on the steering wheel in time to the beat. 

 

They make it all the way to “Keep On Runnin’” before Nancy breaks the silence.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

Jessica keeps her eyes on the road, humming along softly as Steve Perry sings  _ I’m on the line, it’s overtime.  _ “To the city,” she replies evasively.

 

Nancy huffs. “Yeah, obviously.” There’s not really anywhere else to go. “Where?”

 

Dread picks apart at Jessica’s stomach. She should have said nothing, should’ve come alone. If Nancy doesn’t know...it means Barb had never told her, that she didn’t suspect. But then again, the girl is so driven, so adamant about finding her friend. Maybe--

 

“Why—  _ what _ don’t you want to tell me?” the other girl’s voice rises in pitch, and now Jessica feels guilty on top of her increasingly fraying nerves. 

 

“Just - just trust me, okay?” Jessica pleads, glancing over. That’s the only way this will work without imploding spectacularly. 

 

Nancy hesitates, chin jutted obstinately. 

 

“It’s nothing...bad,” Jessica adds weakly, the words brittle and slightly bitter on her tongue. It’s not a lie, except maybe it is.

 

After a prolonged moment, Nancy nods. Jessica sighs, turning her attention back to the road.

 

It’s not enough to calm her, but. It’s...something.

 

“Where we’re going… I saw Barb here, once,” Jessica offers tentatively. “It’s...how we know each other, outside of school I mean.”

 

Nancy is quiet for a beat, taking it in. “And you think she’d come back?” Doubt creeps at the edges of her words.

 

Jessica understands. Nancy is worried. Her friend went missing without a trace, and no one can give her anything concrete to go on. She’s chasing after hints and maybes, all the while haunted by the dark spectre of something horrible having happened.

 

Jessica gets it.

 

“It’s worth a shot. I know...when Will first disappeared-” Jessica’s voice shakes, but she goes on. “We checked everywhere. The police were doing their own investigation, but… You can’t just do nothing, even if you don’t know what  _ to  _ do. Every minute I wasn’t looking for him, I - it felt wrong.” Jessica stops, realizing she’d been rambling, that the other girl was silent next to her. She bites her lip. Maybe it was too much to assume Nancy felt the same way. “It’s something we can do, at least.”

 

Nancy considers her for a moment. Her gaze feels heavy, and Jessica almost can’t stand the weight of it. 

 

“Ok.” It sounds like a sigh, but Jessica’s shoulders sag with relief hearing it. “And...I’m sorry. About your brother.” The words stumble out of her mouth just as awkwardly as the time before, but. This time they’re alone, and Journey croons in the background, and there’s no escaping the sincerity that’s shining in the other girl’s eyes. 

 

“Yeah.” Jessica refuses to cry, not again, not in front of Nancy. She chokes up a little despite herself. “Thanks, Wheeler.”

 

Nancy smiles, just the smallest of quirks of the corners of her mouth, and it’s like -- the music sounds sweeter, in that moment. She looks like she’s searching for words, but there’s nothing more that needs to be said, really. So they ride the rest of the way in silence.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well. well! well.
> 
> I had fun writing this, and as a result I wrote fast and slapped it up here as asap as possible. So! After my excitement cools down, I'll come back and edit, but if anyone has any constructive criticism or is like "wtf is this entire scene honestly how could you think this is worth the internet paper it's printed on," let me know! But hopefully it's as fun to read as it was to write...h o p e f u l l y.
> 
> Also! I'm perpetually bored so if you have the inkling, feel free to bug me, whether on here or on Tumblr.

* * *

 

Jessica’s knees quake as she nears the nondescript brick building - just as they had the first time she’d been here, over a year ago now.

 

It’s unassuming, on the outside, for a building skirting the edge of downtown. A front door that’s never unlocked at night, so Jessica walks past and into the alleyway, then down a narrow flight of stairs. The same dim, flickering light hung over the door below, and as Jessica stood near it, the din of music and people is just barely audible.

 

She hesitates. Her mind begins to spin, to all the things that could go wrong, to Nancy waiting in the car parked two blocks away, to Barb’s deer-in-the-headlights expression when they’d caught each other’s eyes here (the last place either of them want someone from home to find them), to - to - to -

 

Jessica takes a steadying breath and knocks.

 

It takes a moment for whoever is behind the door to size her up. Jessica squares her shoulders and looks directly at the peephole.

 

The door swings open, and, taking a last sweeping look around the alley, she steps inside the covert bar.

 

The music hits her first. It’s a weekday, which means a band is playing on the stage on the far side of the room. Guitar minor chords float through the air, accentuated by a rat-a-tat drumbeat and a low-pitched crooning melody. It’s a warm sound, enjoyable if not danceable, and the buzz settles over the patrons the way a good drink might.

 

There’s a good crowd, clustered mostly around the stage and the bar along the opposite wall. A few couples sit at some of the booths that line the wall off to the right. In the low light, it could almost pass as any other bar. Except for the men swaying together to the beat, for the women seated at the bar whose knees knock together and send each other flirty smiles, for the butch doorwoman dressed in a man’s leather jacket who nods at Jessica knowingly.

 

“Welcome back, kid. We missed you,” she says, arms folded across her chest. She tilts her head toward the bar, where behind the counter a young blonde woman Jessica’s age is pouring a tap, smiling sweetly at something the man next to her is saying. “Some of us more than others.”

 

Jessica flushes down to the roots of her hair. The doorwoman just raises a brow, then switches tracks. “The mic’ll be open in forty.”

 

Jessica bites her lip, eyeing the stage. “Thanks. Maybe...another time.”

 

The woman shrugs, and Jessica takes it as the end of the conversation.

 

She jostles her way to the bar, slotting herself in an empty spot at the far end. There’s a jolly murmur of conversation, a note of glee that Jessica’s only ever found here. A man a standing few feet away laughs at something his partner says, leaning over to put a hand on his arm, the touch lingering. The other man grins crookedly, taking a swig of his drink, and launches into another boisterous story.

 

“Jessica, hey!” A chipper, melodious voice pulls her attention away. The bartender grins at her, tucking a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear, her doe-brown eyes shining excitedly. She leans her hip against the bar. “It’s good to see you,” she says in her easily affable way that Jessica honestly cannot decipher whether is anything more than friendly.

 

“H-hey, Robin,” Jessica stutters, and cringes internally. She’s pretty sure that she’s never had an non-awkward (always on her part) interaction with the other girl, even last year when Jessica had played piano for Hawkin High’s theater club’s production of _The Wizard of Oz,_ Robin-as-Glinda all sweet chattering as she lingered near the piano _._ And that was before Jessica had _known,_ before Robin had graduated and come to work here. Before Jessica had first tiptoed in, terrified in Lonnie’s too-big bomber jacket, dazedly following the pull of the crowd until she felt a hand catch her elbow, and there the blonde had been with a welcoming smile.

 

“How’s Hawkins?” Robin asks over her shoulder as she walks to the mini fridge, coming back to put a Cherry Coke in front of Jessica with a clink. At Jessica’s hesitation, she quirks a brow. “Are y-”

 

“I, um… I need to talk to you, actually. It’s important.”

 

Robin blinks, but she’s tactful enough that that’s her only reaction. She glances behind her and, with a grace Jessica can’t really fathom, jumps and slides up and over the counter. The men next to them whistle, one of them cheering ‘go get her!’

 

Jessica blushes, and Robin swats him on the shoulder. “Cover me, I’m taking a breather,” she says as she leads Jessica towards a secluded booth in the corner.

 

They settle in, Jessica feeling more nervous than she had on the car ride with Nancy, even. She’s pretty sure her stomach is going to wear a hole in itself, the way it keeps twisting itself in knots.

 

“You look exhausted, Jess.” Robin reaches out, tracing a thumb beneath Jessica’s eye where she imagines bags have permanently unpacked themselves. It’s brief, and Jessica barely has time to be flustered by it. “Just between us, what’s up?”

 

She doesn’t know about Will. There’s a part of Jessica that wants to tell her, but. There’s a part of her that doesn’t, too, and she’s not currently on her own time, so. Maybe next time.

 

“I’m looking for someone,” Jessica says instead. “Do you remember Barb Holland? Red hair, in the same grade as me.”

 

Robin frowns. “Glasses, right? Freckles, shy?” Jessica nods, and something wilts in Robin’s expression. “She’s missing?”

 

Jessica looks away, trying not to think about how many people here have disappeared, about AIDS or the cops or the ever-present fear.

 

“I thought maybe… I thought maybe Hawkins got too small, maybe she came here?” It’s pitiful, really, the way hope curls into her question, so feeble.

 

Robin is quiet for awhile, and when Jessica finally looks back up at her, she seems sad. “She’s only ever been here the once, Jess. I’m so sorry.”

 

Jessica nods. “R-right,” she breathes out, feeling...just, so tired, all at once. “I -- okay.”

 

“Hey,” Robin says softly, leaning closer, putting a hand over Jessica’s. “I’ll put the word out, alright? Have people on the lookout. You never know.” She squeezes her hand gently, and Jessica nods.

 

Robin smiles, though it’s still sad, and her gaze drifts over Jessica’s shoulder. Her brown eyes widen, brows arching in surprise. “Is that - is that Nancy Wheeler?”

 

Jessica’s heart sinks, and she jerks her head around to look. Sure enough, there the other girl is, staring slack-jawed at her surroundings.

 

“Shit,” Jessica curses, right as Nancy’s startled eyes land on her. The other girl doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, and Jessica feels her heart stop. _“Shit.”_

 

She’s out of her seat like a shot, panic lightning-hot in her veins.

 

“What - what are you _doing here?_ ” Jessica hisses as she nears. Nancy takes a step back, mouth moving to say words that don’t come out.

 

“Let’s go, okay?” She starts to take Nancy’s arm, to usher her out, but the brunette flinches. Jessica reels back, clenching her jaw til her teeth ache, looking down at the ground. The rejection stings, but it doesn’t - it shouldn’t - surprise her.

 

(It does, though, and Jessica hates herself for that.)

 

Nancy turns abruptly, all but running out, and with a heavy sigh, Jessica follows.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so notes about the bar: I figure a gay bar in the 1980s, or at least my lil fantasy one here, would be more concerned with being welcoming to those who need a safe place to be out than concerned with ‘no no teens allowed.’ They might not serve them drinks, but they let them in. In case you were wondering.


End file.
